Untamed Love: Loki, The Dark Prince
by hooked
Summary: Known to mortals in ancients past as the God of Mischief, the raven haired emerald eyed mythical god of Asgard conceals a burning, secret desire within him; a longing quite possibly misunderstood. Is it for acceptance? For relevancy? Or is it…for Love? A/U with events referenced from different Thor timelines.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N:** Hi fanfic readers. I'm new to the Thor world. Initially, this was supposed to be a fun little short story for my sister's own amusement but I thought I'd venture out and give it a shot by posting it. Forgive as I'm learning these characters and its mythos; I'm bound to get something wrong and if so, I'll do my best to rectify it. Please leave a review. Thanks_

 _A quick note that I do not profit from Marvel Comics or productions and this is a work of fiction. Also, this story is AU and will be jumping timelines so events I make reference to in my story won't transpire exactly as they have been chronicled in the film or comics. Thanks!_

* * *

 **Untamed Love: Loki, The Dark Prince**

Boredom.

He stood with his arms folded across his chest, his boots shoulder length apart listening to the charges of the feeble so-called citizens of his father's world.

He was summoned to high court by Odin, the bearded, snowy haired, eye-patched ruler of Asgard to whom he bore absolutely no resemblance whatsoever…the father of the famed and much feared Thor: The God of Thunder.

His brother.

The God of Mischief, as he was so fondly referred by a questionable subset of the citizenry gave a petulant snort.

 _The blond buffoon would be nothing without that common tool of carpentry by his side. It's possible he even sleeps with the bloody thing having named it,_ he thought. _Probably slips it underneath his pillow at night to ward off the—_

"Prey, tell us what is so amusing to you, my Son?"

The booming address jolting him from his reverie Loki flinched, his arms going to his sides, his emerald gaze locking with the King's probing blue ones.

"Nothing."

Sitting on his throne atop the steps of his dais, Odin smirked.

At least, Loki _assumed_ it was a smirk.

" _Nothing_ , you say?"

Standing by his side the Queen drew nearer, placing a hand atop the back of Odin's throne, her brow furrowed.

Confused, the younger man knit his brow. "Yes," he replied, "Nothing." He shrugged. "Well…there's nothing of significance in these lies to make sport of, anyway."

"Then you are _nothing_ but a degenerate!" the elder man growled in anger leaning forward, his hand on the armrest, a foot stepping onto the dais. "How could you stand before me and callously dismiss the claims of these present?" His gaze narrowed. "You have masqueraded as your elder brother to gain their trust only to rob them of their precious corrodite!" he snarled in accusation.

Looking bored, Loki held his father's gaze. "I needed a setting for my signet ring, Father," he brushed off. "I simply asked my brother to petition the village for its foraging," he explained. "I was quite prepared to pay them whatever they asked. What fault is it of mine that Thor blew the whole arrangement—"

"Don't you lie to me, boy!" Odin barked, this time rising from his throne. "Posing as your brother only to steal from the villagers…a common _thief?_ " he pondered. "You are better than this."

Shaking his head, his wary expression fell. "What have you become?"

With a deep sigh, the younger man rolled his eyes and folded his arms across his chest. "I am whatever you raised me to be, Father," he stated, his voice monotone. " _Nothing_ more."

Someone gasped, the court heretofore silent during the proceedings.

"Is that so?" the King mused, his head cocked to the side. "Then tell me this: what aspirations do you hold for my kingdom?"

Cocking his head, he blinked. "I'm sorry. I don't understand the question," he sassed.

"You damn well understand what I'm alluding to, boy," he retorted.

At that, Loki calmly unfolded an arm and studied his manicure, his mother Frigga training a concerned gaze upon his pale, delicate features. Folding them again he lifted a passive gaze to his father, their eyes meeting.

"I suppose your notion of a free and peaceful Asgard is to annihilate every mortal, god, and goddess that threatens your reign, pillage their resources, and upon installation of a vassal use me as Enforcer," he stated. "So, my so called _aspirations_ align with yours, dear Father."

More gasps followed by low and nervous rumblings, the courtesans in attendance shocked and outraged by the young man's insolence.

Odin smiled, the chamber hushing silent in response.

Regaining his composure the King slowly sunk to his chair. Leaning back his gaze fixed on the young man on whom he had placed such lofty hopes so long ago.

"If you believe that, then you quite possibly are beyond my reach, Son."

Frigga drew a sharp intake of breath.

Loki glared at him.

"Remove him from my sight!" the King bellowed to the Guardsmen. "Let him mull over what he has done to his own people within the bowels of my holding cells until he emerges contrite," he commanded with a wave of a hand.

 _"Seriously?"_ his son mumbled under his breath.

With another roll of the eyes, Loki's arms fell to his sides before lifting his wrists in routine anticipation, the guards approaching, the chatter rising in decibels. They affixed him with iron shackles and turned to lead him out of his father's presence, the young god unfazed and accustomed to this treatment.

They marched him out of the Palace's ornate center court, its black marbled floors occupied by hundreds of witnesses looking on in judgement of the wayward younger son of the Mighty Odin: King of the Norse Gods as he was revered.

The security entourage passed the massive gold pillars making their way to the back double doors, Loki strolling calmly as if taking a walk on a summer's day admiring the garden peonies.

He was no stranger to controversy.

Standing at 6 foot 3, his long legs covered the distance in easy, smooth strides seemingly without a care. Smirking, he glanced at the beautiful courtiers who simply eyed him with suspicion and fear, he winking in their direction, their reactions mixed to his amusement.

As he walked, his thick ebony locks slicked and combed back cascaded in waves past his broad shoulders swaying slightly with his slow, confident gait.

He wore his usual court apparel; a long gold trimmed emerald duster, the princely collar high and formal ending just below his ears. His black double breasted vest hugged his lithe muscular frame, his black trousers concealing well-developed thighs and calf muscles ending in heavy black boots fitted with gold shin plates.

Reaching the heavy doors they slowly opened, Loki taking the moment to offer a deep and dramatic sigh, his valuable time wasted with this gratuitous display of power his father so often indulged in.

Licking his lips and bored as hell, he blinked as something in his peripheral caught his attention. Whipping his head right, his emerald gaze locked with her cinnamon ones.

A stranger. A woman.

A _beautiful_ woman.

He knit his brow.

Her skin of rich cocoa she studied him, her probing cinnamon gaze cutting through the mass of disgusted and judgmental stares and penetrating his perplexed emerald ones.

She wore a silver headdress, her blonde locks thick and long. Her full lips—

 _"Move it!"_ a shove from the guard shook him back to reality causing him to stumble over the threshold losing sight of the fragile and ethereal being. He guffawed in disgust.

"Amateurs," he spat.

They led him through the atrium and down to the lower levels where his new, glassed-in solitary home of uncertain duration awaited him.


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N:** Hi Guys. Thanks for your patience. I hope you like this update. It's mostly dialogue but I've got to set this up for the upcoming action. ;) Please let me know what you think in your reviews._

Chapter 2

He lay on his back, an arm tucked under his head.

He stared at the ceiling, his mind racing, his body still.

Crossing his long legs at his ankles he reached toward the nightstand and selected a ceramic paperweight. Tossing it in the air, he sighed heavily in silence catching the weight and tossing it again with nothing but the low ebb of the cell's power grid reaching his ears.

He suddenly stopped.

That feeling.

It wasn't foreign to him. In fact, it was very familiar.

It always started as a slight flutter.

He knew when his mother, the Queen, was near.

The feeling; the elation of a young insecure boy at his mother's affirmation felt deep within the pit of his stomach. That sense of joy at being accepted. Recognized.

 _Loved._

And Loki knew his mother was here. Even at this age. Even well into adulthood the simplicity of the nurturing relationship between mother and son was real, the feeling palpable.

Losing his composure he quickly schooled his features as the Queen materialized before him within his cell.

Standing in the center of his chambers, her soft blue gaze locked with his cold emerald ones. "Loki…," she said breathily.

He stubbornly clenched his jaw. "Mother."

Frigga gave a frustrated sigh and approached. "When are you going to give up this act, son?"

Tossing the weight in the air he quirked a brow, his eyes on the ceramic ball. "What act, Mother? I'm no thespian so I can assure you what you see is what you get," he sing-songed, the corner of his mouth curling into a mischievous smile as he continued with his play.

His mother pursed her lips, her gaze waxing sorrowful. "You feign apathy when you and I both know—"

He sat up sharply, "Know what?" he shouted angrily. "That that senile old man in the throne room cares nothing for me?" he stated pointing toward the ceiling. "That his title applies to everyone but me?" he offered palming his chest, "That he loves my brother with a love I can never hope to attain?"

Saddened, Frigga closed her eyes and took a deep breath, slowly opening them. "He is affectionately known as The All-Father yes," she stated, "And you are wrong." Locking gazes she stepped closer taking a seat by his boots. "He takes great pride in his sons and loves you _both_ dearly," she implored. "Your father and I are baffled at the rage you so frequently display, Loki. Why do you treat him with such disdain?"

Lying back, he snorted. "So I suppose he sees himself as the victim in this dynamic?" he retorted, placing both arms behind his head. He stared at her, pensive. "Interesting."

Her gaze narrowed. "He is not a victim, son. "Your father—"

 _"_ _Stop calling him that!"_ he growled, his emerald gaze now hard. "I've heard the rumors. I've been at court. I'm not stupid," he shot back. "Look at me!"

Frigga studied him.

 _"_ _Look at me!"_

Her gaze softened. "I am, my son."

"Pale skin. Dark hair. Green eyes," he rattled off, his eyes furious. "Illegitimate is the gossip of the day, Madame."

She flinched at the insult. "Are you calling your mother a whore?" she shot back, her steady blue gaze wincing slightly.

Loki's lips at first set in a thin angry line softened, his mouth falling open, his expression now contrite.

"I…"

"What?" she shot back, her misty gaze strong.

The anger towards his father inadvertently led him down this path; unwisely wounding his precious mother. He shifted his gaze to his boots and swallowed hard.

"That's not what I meant," he stated quietly.

Frigga quirked a brow. "Then what _did_ you mean?"

Loki's gaze again met hers. "Odin—"

She knit her brow in disapproval, cutting him short. He sighed.

" _Father_ ," he drew out sarcastically, "has always favored Brother," he explained. "Thor is his exact likeness. His image. He even wields the power of his forefathers and what do I have?" he snorted. "A few paltry magic tricks and a dysfunctional golden staff," he stated bitterly.

Her gaze locked on his the Queen straightened. "Those so called _magic tricks_ are the mystic treasures of your ancestors, Loki," she corrected sharply. "They were passed down the royal bloodlines and taught by tradition to the second son of the King. It is unfortunate that you show so little respect for them."

She stood gathering the long folds of her gown, her gaze drifting back to his. "Instead of indulging your rage take time to reflect on why you have grown so bitter, my son," she advised before stepping toward the grid. "You'll find that it is not _we_ who have rejected you, but your own self."

At that, her image dematerialized.

Speechless, he clenched his jaw and in a fit of rage, hurled the ceramic weight against the wall shattering it to pieces.

* * *

"Brother?"

The younger man sat dejectedly on his bed, his elbows on his knees. His shoulders slumped he sighed rolling his eyes in exasperation.

"Yesss, Thor?"

The blond warrior approached the translucent grid, his blue gaze direct, his armor polished. He eyed him.

"I'm told you stole my image with the intention of acquiring corrodite whilst I dealt with our enemies on Earth," his gaze narrowed. "Why?"

Without turning, Loki gave a dramatic sigh. " _Your_ enemies," he mumbled. "And I didn't steal anything, Brother. I simply borrowed your likeness in order to perform a quick errand," he explained flippantly. "It's not so difficult. Since we're so much alike it's easy for simpletons to mistake us—"

"Loki," Thor drew out, irritated.

Annoyed, his brother jumped to his feet, whirled around and charged the grid. "Don't address me in that patronizing tone of voice!" he demanded. "While you're down there acting like the hero you aren't I'm stuck here on Asgard with absolutely nothing to do and no one to do it with!" he shouted, arms flailing.

Snorting a laugh, Thor shook his head and folded his arms. "No one is attempting to 'act like a hero'," he replied using air quotes with his hands, his arms folding again. "Our friends alerted me that Jane was in danger. She—"

"Again Jane Jane Jane," the younger man mocked turning away, his arms waving demonstratively. Calmly taking a seat in the corner of his luxurious cell he stared at his brother. "You're much better off with Lady Sif in my humble opinion," he quipped, glancing away and folding his arms.

Thor rolled his eyes, his arms going to his sides. "What exactly is this about?"

Loki quirked a brow. "About?"

"Yes. About."

He shrugged. "Nothing. You and that silly Hammer of yours are allowed to go gallivanting all over the Nine Realms while I get to rot in this prison dying of perpetual boredom," he stated sharply.

Locking gazes, Thor furrowed his brow as Loki stood and strolled across the floor towards the grid, his arms swinging. "I'm always forgotten," he added. "Remember the time you and Dr. Strange-Love left me drifting between portals while the two of you entertained yourselves? _Hmmm?_ " he accused.

His elder brother snorted incredulously. "It's Dr. _Strange_. And despite what you make of the incident we were not entertaining ourselves, Brother. We were attempting to determine the enemy's next move. You were only momentarily inconvenienced."

"Thirty minutes!" Loki screamed, his gaze wild. "I told you I was _falling_ for _thirty minutes!_ "

"No harm done. You're alive aren't you?" he shot back amused.

The younger man rolled his eyes.

Thor gave a sad sigh. "This conversation is obviously going nowhere. I take my leave," he stated turning to the prison stairs. He glanced over his shoulder. "I am to meet Brunnhilde to discuss the fallen warriors bound for Valhalla," he explained, his heavy boots clacking against the marble floors. "I hope you use the solitary confinement wisely. Reflect upon your utter inadequacy for that prestigious honor, Brother" he quipped heading up the stairs and out of sight.

His arms folded, Loki's emerald gaze narrowed. Raising a palm, the chair behind him suddenly rose and hurtled toward the grid, the contact bursting the piece of furniture into flames then dissipating instantly.

"Oh so _smart_ ," he huffed quietly.


End file.
